Save Me
by Millie
Summary: Miranda is lost... slight drug use and MIRANDY :


Save me

Their bodies had been extremely warm, pressed up so closely to one another.

The sheets were damp from the sweat of their bodies.

Fingers roamed, tongues, lips, legs entwined.

The sex was sensual, phenomenal, and so wrong. In many ways. It was all wrong. Miranda should not have allowed it to happen, but it had.

And then she had disappeared. She had left her high and dry in the middle of Paris. During the infamous Fashion Week.

She had watched her walk away; brown hair trailing behind her as she walked, defiantly across the street and out of Miranda's life.

Miranda didn't want to face the reality of the situation. She hadn't been able to, not since Stephen had struck up an affair with his younger secretary. Not since he'd smashed Miranda against the wall a week prior. Not since he'd left a bag of cocaine in the corner of his large mahogany desk nearly six months before. The desk Miranda had bought him for his birthday three years prior.

She had found the white substance one night when he was out. It was before she knew of Mackenzie, his long-haired secretary, and she had wanted to know. She'd been in search of evidence, anything that would give him away, and instead she had stumbled upon the one drug she had vowed never to take again.

It had been the club drug of the day in the 80's. Everyone around her had used it and when one walked into an exclusive party it was handed out as if it were a party favor at a child's birthday. Miranda used to sniff her way through dull evenings, for if anything it kept her talking, kept her from clamming up and running off to a corner to stay out of the limelight. Cocaine had been her savior until she'd met her first husband. He'd made her quit.

She had done it for her girls. And she had sworn up and down that she would not do it again.

But as she stood with the bag in her hands, her marriage falling apart around her, and a sense of emptiness invading her senses, she made the decision to draw a line or two and inhale.

It burned at first; she hadn't been used to it. But soon her cheeks flushed and she felt a warming overcome her body. She felt fine, good even.

And thus it had begun. Just little bits here and there. She never let it interfere with her work, never once.

If she wanted to take some, she would make an appointment with her very exclusive dealer, and she would head over to his apartment in the sky. It wasn't obvious, no one suspected. She behaved like she always did regardless of whether or not the drug was coursing through her system. Her mood swings were chalked up to the fact that she was the unpredictable Miranda Priestly.

The girls had no idea. She felt guilty every time she would come home on a cocaine high.

But she was thankful for it when Stephen would press himself deep inside of her, causing her much more pain than pleasure.

But then little Ms. Andrea Sachs had to come waltzing into her hazy life.

Andrea made her want to pull herself out of this drug-induced state she'd found herself in.

But she would never overstep her boundaries.

Until Andrea overstepped them for her.

The young, silly, assistant had actually had the nerve to kiss her.

They were both at the office late. Miranda later than usual.

Her hands had been unsteady as she shifted through last minute details, pictures, mock-ups, copies. Everything was beginning to blur together and she could hardly steady her hands, let alone her mind, enough to type out an e-mail to the fashion department head.

She'd cursed herself under her breath, wishing she had just a pinch of the white powder.

Andrea had seemed to sense her frustration and peered into the darkened office.

"Are you all right?" She'd calmly inquired, noticing that Miranda's hands were shaking so horribly that she couldn't even write notes on "the book".

Miranda had looked up and given Andrea a sharp look. And then for some reason Andrea had come to her, taken her hands in her own, and had kissed her. Their lips had danced together; Andrea's mouth had tasted of cigarettes and coffee, an interesting combination.

Miranda's unsteady hands had reached, grabbed at Andrea, attempting to pull herself up. Andrea aided her, their lips barely coming apart as Miranda stood.

"Get me the car." She'd barked, breaking the kiss. "My coat, purse." She instructed, almost as if the kiss hadn't occurred.

Andrea nodded, she'd looked quite worried, anxious, scared, confused.

Miranda had made it obvious that she had wanted Andrea to follow and moments later they were on their way to Andrea's apartment. Miranda had insisted it be Andrea's apartment. She told Roy to wait.

They had stumbled up the stairs of Andrea's apartment, into her bed.

There was, apparently, a boyfriend who was absent that night.

Miranda didn't care. She had lain there, allowing Andrea to do whatever she wanted to her. Once she was fulfilled, she had left. But not for home. She had left for the fabulous apartment in the sky. Her dealer was less than excited to see her, and quickly ushered her into a room.

She was getting careless, she noted as she made lines in the white powder.

Sleeping with Andrea had turned into a regular thing. She knew she couldn't continue on this destructive path much longer. And Andrea began to notice Miranda's odd behavior. She was catching on.

She would hold Miranda as she shook at night. She would hold her close to her and Miranda was certain Andrea could feel the rapid pounding of her heart.

There was one night that Miranda showed up on Andrea's doorstep. The boyfriend had been home, but Andrea had stepped out into the hallway, quick to observe that Miranda's nose was bleeding.

She had cared for her; her boyfriend leaving in a fit of rage.

But Andrea knew that Miranda needed something. Someone. Help.

Miranda momentarily got better after that night, trying to hide it from Andrea, not wanting her to suspect anything further. Visits to her dealer were less and less frequent.

She made herself sick at night; all the while upholding her hard, impeccable exterior for the world during the day. Business was unaffected. She was just as hard off the drug as she was on it; there was always that little nagging voice, telling her to take it, do it.

Andrea was becoming distant, or so Miranda thought. She began to worry about Andrea and their future. And it wasn't only their relationship that needed help, but Stephen was threatening divorce. Miranda didn't want to drag her family through another divorce, but it was beginning to become inevitable.

And then Paris Fashion Week.

And Andrea had walked away.

And Miranda had crumbled.

It was horrible, absolutely terrible. And she kept it all to herself. No one suspected she was slipping; not even her daughters. The only two things she really had to live for anymore.

The divorce, and Andrea.

Those two things had led her to this very moment.

A moment she was beginning to regret was happening.

She had been early to her dealers. She heard voices, familiar sounding.

And then _she_ walked out of the apartment.

"Andrea."

Miranda gasped, not wanting to grasp who it was, who she was seeing. Not here. She couldn't be seen here.

"Miranda, oh God." Andrea attempted to move towards her, but she wouldn't let her. Miranda moved away.

"Not a word about this." Miranda hissed, noting Andrea's _Mirror_ badge, her journalist notepad.

Andrea just nodded, what looked like tears trapped inside her eyes.

Miranda made her way into her dealer's apartment. He ushered her into her usual room. Her hands shook as she made lines in the cocaine. She hesitated.

She couldn't do it. But she needed it. Her whole body was sagging, she was beginning to feel as if she was about to drown and the only thing that could save her was to take the drug. She knew it would immediately make it all better.

But Andrea's face, so close…she couldn't shake the image out of her head.

"Fuck," she cursed as she leaned over to sniff a line.

~*~

High out of her mind, Miranda made her way pleasantly through the room of famous, infamous, debutants, designers, royalty, rich, snobs, millionaires, reporters. All smiled in her direction and she returned their looks. She chatted idly, sporadically, unafraid to express her opinion. Her lips moving faster than her brain. The drug influencing her conversation. Aided by champagne.

And then a quick flash of brunette caught her eye.

Andrea?

Yes, the silly girl was there. With her _Mirror_ badge and journalist notepad.

Miranda circled the room, her eyes hardly straying from the younger woman. She stayed in conversation with Irv, with Jacqueline, Nigel, several other important people, but her eyes would flash to the brunette. She watched her make her way around the room.

When she lost sight of her, she thought her heart was about to fall out of her chest. She felt an arm wrap around her wrist and turned, surprised when Irv Ravitz came up beside her.

"Are you all right, Miranda?" He asked, leaning in. His breath smelled of hard liquor and cigars. Miranda recoiled from him.

"I'm perfectly fine." She beamed.

Irv nodded and moved on to the next person.

Miranda turned and found herself face to face with Andrea.

Andrea glanced anxiously around to see if any photographers were watching. The place was crowded enough for her to reach out and grab Miranda's arm, pulling her along behind her.

Miranda didn't put up a fight as Andrea dragged her out the back entrance of the hotel's ballroom. She could barely feel the cold of the outside world as Andrea pulled her out the door. She did notice her town car, and allowed herself to be pushed inside then she watched as Andrea got in after her.

She listened as Andrea told Roy something…her words were soft. Miranda leaned against Andrea, her head resting on Andrea's shoulder.

Sleep blurred her vision, and she awoke moments later in her bed.

Andrea was curled beside her; still in the outfit she had been wearing at the event where Miranda had seen her.

"What are you doing here?" Miranda frowned, attempting to sit up, but finding she was too shaky and out of it to do even that. She fell back on the bed and laughed.

"Miranda, what did you take?" Andrea asked, her fingers calmly gliding through Miranda's hair.

Miranda sniffed. "What are you talking about?" Her eyes skirted away from Andrea's.

"What are you on right now? Marijuana, meth, acid, cocaine? What Miranda?" Andrea demanded, her voice quiet, her hands steady as they stroked Miranda's white face.

Miranda looked at her and began laughing. Full out laughter.

"This is not funny, Miranda." Andrea commented, pushing Miranda down, straddling her hips, leaning down so that their faces were inches from one another.

Miranda sobered up for a moment, running the back of her hand against her nose. "I'm not _on_ anything." Miranda shrugged, realizing her nose was bleeding. Again.

"Oh, Jesus, Miranda." Andrea frowned, slipping off of her, making her sit up so the blood wouldn't rush down the back of her throat. "Stay there." Andrea got off the bed and raced to the bathroom for tissues. When she returned, she pressed the white tissues against Miranda's nose; they immediately turned red.

"Fuck, Miranda. What have you done to yourself?" Andrea's eyes were filling with tears as she cared for Miranda.

Miranda watched Andrea as she carefully helped her. "You left me." Miranda whispered.

"Yes, I did. I left because it wasn't right. What we did. And I knew you needed help. And sleeping with me wasn't helping your marriage much." Andrea explained, wiping tears from her eyes, checking to see if Miranda's nose had stopped bleeding.

Miranda laughed, "my marriage is finished."

"I know." Andrea sighed, pulling the tissue away from Miranda's nose. It had stopped bleeding.

"Don't leave me again." Miranda absently stated.

Andrea nodded, "I'm not going to." Tears slipped between her lips as she spoke. "God, Miranda." She leaned in and kissed her. "You're so…we're going to fix this."

Miranda just grinned and nodded.


End file.
